(no subject)
My sister left the other day to go back to Charlotte and to all of her obligations. The day after that my Mom said the we should move the spare bed, so we rolled it out with my Dad. Now the room looks odd and depleted, with all the dead carcasses of hair clips and pennies revealed. It feels diminished as if something really substantial has been sucked out of it. It's the asymmetry that bothers me really, there's too much weight on one side with only the huge bed and the TV, as if the floor will tilt suddenly and everything will start sliding towards the windows and into the street.
On Thursday I went to the opening of my Art History teacher's show in Chelsea. She's not really my teacher anymore, she was when I attended Parsons for one semester. I sort of hated that school but I loved that teacher. She almost made everything better.
It was strange seeing her again after so long and at first she didn't recognize me. It was really cold that Thursday too. I guess I kept imagining myself in her memory of me as this scrawny and sad nineteen to twenty year old. It's strange. Sometimes I feel surrounded and suffocated by all these visions that others have of me. I have been thinking about that a lot lately, how we are filled with others expectations and how that conditions the way we act and feel about ourselves. Well, now I'm sort of sick or something. Probably because it was so cold that day, with all these Arctic currents sweeping in, but also because of the tunneling through time to get there, seeing her and then seeing myself unfolded and younger projected in her mind and then trying to push it all away, quickly before it grabbed me.
On Thursday I went to the opening of my Art History teacher's show in Chelsea. She's not really my teacher anymore, she was when I attended Parsons for one semester. I sort of hated that school but I loved that teacher. She almost made everything better.
It was strange seeing her again after so long and at first she didn't recognize me. It was really cold that Thursday too. I guess I kept imagining myself in her memory of me as this scrawny and sad nineteen to twenty year old. It's strange. Sometimes I feel surrounded and suffocated by all these visions that others have of me. I have been thinking about that a lot lately, how we are filled with others expectations and how that conditions the way we act and feel about ourselves. Well, now I'm sort of sick or something. Probably because it was so cold that day, with all these Arctic currents sweeping in, but also because of the tunneling through time to get there, seeing her and then seeing myself unfolded and younger projected in her mind and then trying to push it all away, quickly before it grabbed me.